They deny everything, persist in their denials even when the
proof against them is overwhelming, and then they cry. When I worry the
Chupin with disagreeable questions, at her next examination, you may be
sure she will turn her eyes into a fountain of tears."
In his impatience, M. Segmuller angrily stamped his foot. He had many
weapons in his arsenal; but none strong enough to break a woman's dogged
resistance.
"If I only understood the motive that guides this old hag!" he
continued. "But not a clue! Who can tell me what powerful interest
induces her to remain silent? Is it her own cause that she is defending?
Is she an accomplice? Is it certain that she did not aid the murderer in
planning an ambuscade?"
"Yes," responded Lecoq, slowly, "yes; this supposition very naturally
presents itself to the mind. But think a moment, sir, such a theory
would prove that the idea we entertained a short time since is
altogether false. If the Widow Chupin is an accomplice, the murderer is
not the person we have supposed him to be; he is simply the man he seems
to be."
This argument apparently convinced M. Segmuller. "What is your opinion?"
he asked.
The young detective had formed his opinion a long while ago. But how
could he, a humble police agent, venture to express any decided views
when the magistrate hesitated? He understood well enough that his
position necessitated extreme reserve; hence, it was in the most modest
tone that he replied: "Might not the pretended drunkard have dazzled
Mother Chupin's eyes with the prospect of a brilliant reward? Might he
not have promised her a considerable sum of money?"
He paused; Goguet, the smiling clerk, had just returned.
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